It Didn't Really Happen
by Pink Pandoracorn
Summary: It was an awful day, and she didn't want to be alone. Started as a oneshot, but Varric won't get out of my head. Varric and F!Lavellan, referenced Cullen/Lavellan. Spoilers!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My first DA story. Spoilers.**

She climbed the stairs up the grand chamber they'd insisted on putting her in. For once she didn't notice the beams piled haphazardly around, promises of renovations to come. She automatically stepped over the wood that encroached just a little too far into the hallway, not really aware she'd done so. Why had they put her up _here_? Even Vivienne wasn't this far up.

Cullen had offered his bed, of course. No ulterior motive, just the prospect of spending the night fast asleep in the arms of her general, her lover... She'd declined, simply on the basis that it was further away. All those stairs, and then that ladder... He'd smiled and said he understood, but she hadn't missed the look of worry in his eyes.

Today had been especially long. All she wanted to do was collapse onto her bed and sleep... Well, sleep until the next big crisis came up, at least. Hopefully that was a few hours away.

Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it to push the final door open. More stairs. She needed to be grateful, she reminded herself. This place really was ideal for the Inquisition. It really wasn't surprising that a keep with the name of 'Skyhold,' would feature quite so many staircases, and she was sure that the view from her private balcony would be quite lovely, just as soon as she had a minute or two to appreciate it.

But that minute or two wasn't coming any time soon. Today had just been so very long. Battling her way to the top of the fortress, and then the Fade... Dorian's bed was closer. If she didn't know that there was a good chance that a large qunari was already in it, she would have just gone there. Dorian kept good wine in his room, it wouldn't have been the first time they'd lost themselves in a bottle and then passed out on his bright purple bedspread. It was good to have a friend like Dorian.

But tonight she was going to be alone. On perhaps the first night she'd needed someone since this whole business had started, her bed was going to be empty. That thought almost sent her back downstairs and onto the battlements...

She saw him just as she crested the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing as though it was the only thing holding her up.

He was sitting on her bed. Strangely, Bianca was nowhere in sight, just the dwarf in the open coat sitting on the end of her bed with his elbows on his knees as he stared at her. The fire was blazing in the fireplace, but there were no other lights, and it was too dark to make out the expression on his face.

"Tell me how it happened." There was none of his usual teasing, no lightheartedness in his tone. He sounded just as tired as she felt, bone-achingly weary.

Her heart twisted painfully. Though his presence in his room was certainly a surprise, the question wasn't. She was actually surprised that it hadn't come earlier.

She moved across the room, her feet shuffling along the cold floor until she reached the bed. Sinking down beside him with an audible groan, her shoulders slumped forward, hands twisting together in her lap. "We were almost out, but the demon wouldn't let us go. Someone needed to stay, to give us time..." She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes against the memories that were still playing out in front of her eyes. "They argued, Stroud and Hawke, they both insisted they should be the one to stay."

Varric grunted, she thought she could detect a tone of approval in the noise. He didn't say anything, though, and this close she was able to see the large bottle he held in one hand. He wasn't drinking, but from the way he was holding it, it wasn't full.

"It fell to me. It always falls to me." Her bitterness made her words fall flat between them. "Hawke... she's amazing, but Stroud can lead the Wardens." She lifted her eyes from where she'd been studying her boots to look into his face, unsurprised to see that he was looking right at her, eyes shadowed in the dark room. "We need the Wardens. I wish... I wish there had been another way, but..." Words fell away, neither one of them wanted platitudes.

They stared at each other for a measure of time- seconds, eternity, it didn't matter. He grunted again and looked away first, lifting the bottle to his lips and having a long drink. When he lowered it again, he passed it directly to her. "No bullshit. Thanks, Daisy."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure he saw, and took the bottle. After taking a long drink, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and tried to pass it back.

He shook his head. His elbows were back on his knees, he appeared to be staring into the dancing orange flames in the fireplace. "I think you need that more than I do."

She nodded and had another drink. They sat there in the semi-dark, the noises of the keep carrying up from far below, the occasional snap of wood from the fire a jolt in the darkness.

"Where's Curly?" His voice had regained some of its normal levity, but there was still a darkness there, a deep sorrow. That, somehow, hurt more. Fresh guilt twisted at her insides.

"His bed's too far away. He won't come up here because he thinks that what we have is still a secret, and everyone else comes up here to disturb me."

Varric's sudden laughter startled them both. "I don't think there's a single person here who doesn't know that you two tested out how well his desk is put together."

She lifted the bottle to him before tipping it up to drain the last of it. It made a hollow thunk as she set it down on the floor beside her foot, and then she was twisting her fingers in her lap again. "Where's Bianca?"

"She's too much tonight." That explained nothing, but she nodded anyway.

"Thanks for not hating me."

He let out a long sigh, and when he spoke again, his words came slowly as though he'd given them a great deal of thought. "If you hadn't settled it yourself, I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd just hit Stroud over the head and slung him up over your shoulder. Well, the Seeker's shoulder, anyway, you're built a bit like a twig."

Her eyebrows rose. "Is that going in your book? I'm built like a twig?"

"Willowy, Daisy. It's more poetic." She could hear the amusement in his voice. They fell into silence again for a time, and then he said, "I should go before you fall asleep on my shoulder. Might be awkward to explain when someone needs you for the next big event."

"Stay." The word was out of her mouth before she even thought about it, pleading, her hand on his arm.

He looked at her hand for a long moment, then sighed. "Yeah."

Seated, she wasn't that much taller than he was, and she only needed to scoot down a little so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. After a moment, his arm came around her as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

Her eyes wanted to close, each blink taking longer and longer for her to pry them open again. "I can't sit up like this, Varric, there's nothing behind me." He moved his arm, allowing her to slide backwards up the bed until she was resting against the headboard.

His eyes, still shadowed, appeared to follow her. He didn't move, didn't speak.

"Please stay," she urged softly.

"Well, shit." There was a lack of vehemence in his words, just a resigned agreement. He slid off the bed and walked around the side to climb into it properly, settling himself against the solid headboard beside her. There was shifting and rustling and much arranging of pillows, and somehow they ended up mostly reclined, her pointed ear on his shoulder again, his cheek against her hair.

Her hand crept up over his ribs to rest on his bare chest, fingers moving lightly through the thick hair there. "I've always wondered what this felt like," she murmured sleepily, unaware that she'd spoken out loud until he chuckled, shifting her head against his shoulder.

"Could have just asked, Daisy."

"I don't think so. Bianca seems like the jealous type." They lapsed into a comfortable silence, neither really moving, but neither was able to fall asleep either. "I wish today hadn't happened. Promise me that when you write about this, today will be left out." She knew he wouldn't leave today out, it had been too pivotal. It was a nice thought, though.

"That's the beauty of writing. I can spin anything into anything else. We're not here, half-drunk on exhaustion and mourning this absolutely shit day, we're..." He trailed off into silence, his arm tightening around her.

She smiled despite herself, eyes still closed, and felt her cheek move against his rough shirt. "We're what?"

"I'm a merchant prince, selling lost treasures and ancient stories." His voice fell into the almost-hypnotic tone he told stories in, and she appreciated that more than anything else.

She made a soft noise of approval. "And me? Who am I?"

"An elf maiden from the Dales who's never seen this much chest hair on a man before."

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking down into his face for a moment. He was staring past her, up at the ceiling. "I haven't, though. It was the first thing I noticed about you. Elf men typically don't have any chest hair, you know," she said quite seriously, and then the two of them were lost in laughter.

It wasn't that funny, not really, but they needed to laugh. Laughter kept the tears away. She lay back on her pillow, laughing until her sides were sore. "I wish we could stay here forever. No bickering to settle, no demons to kill..."

He rose up on his elbow this time, leaning over her. "No Curly." It came out of more of a question than a statement.

"No Bianca," she returned pointedly, meeting his eyes in the darkness.

Somehow they were kissing then, without any knowledge of who had initiated it. Tongues met, mingling the leftover wine they'd shared. His stubble scraped sharply against her skin, his free hand moved across her waist to settle on her hip, a heavy weight that was somehow reassuring. His lips moved over hers leisurely, as though they had the entire night before them.

Her fingers traced the outline of one of his ears, straying on the thick gold earrings. Down his neck, onto his shoulder under the rough shirt, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingertips.

She slipped her mouth from his, making a path along his jaw to his ear. He muttered something- a curse, encouragement, it didn't matter- as her lips closed over his earlobe, drawing it into her mouth.

His hands moved over her body as though he was trying to memorize it, gently and purposefully making quick work of her clothes.

The night stretched out as they took their time simply kissing and touching. And when he finally settled himself between her legs as the fire died down to embers, there was a tired smile on her face as she rocked her hips into his, moving together almost as if in a trance.

She was alone when she woke up the next morning, not that she'd expected any different. There was a brief thought of whether the previous night had even happened, or if it had all been a dream.

Looking around she sat up, noticing a sheet of paper on the rumpled pillow beside her. She reached over and picked it up, her eyes moving over the familiar writing. It was a quick story- just a couple of paragraphs, really- about an elf maiden and a merchant prince. It ended in a happy cliché, they two riding off into the sunset, never to be hear from again. She was smiling as a brisk knock sounded at her door.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't think anyone would notice if you opened one. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who comes down here.

The unexpected voice startled her abruptly out of her thoughts and she whirled from where she'd been standing in front of one of the shelves of rare vintages, her heart in her throat. She'd been staring past the bottles rather than at them, completely lost in thought.

Her eyes focused on the dwarf standing in the doorway, arms folded in front of him and a rather amused look on his face. "You startled me, I was... thinking."

"I gathered." He looked up at her for a moment before moving into the small pantry and hoisting himself atop one of the old barrels that stood to one side. With anyone else it might have been comical, but there was a certain gravitas about him that made it decidedly not. He settled there, one hand on his hip as he looked across at her. "You've got that look on your face again."

Her eyebrows rose at the statement and she turned to face him. "What look?"

He pointed one blunt finger at her face. "That one. The one that says you wish Curly would forget that you're the illustrious leader of the Inquisition."

She contemplated him for a moment and then sighed, her feet crunching on the grit on the floor as she moved over to lean against the barrel beside him, arms folded tightly in front of her. "When we found out what actually happened, that it wasn't actually Andraste setting this thing in my hand, I thought it might get easier. But even when we're alone, there's that reverence in his eyes that doesn't ever quite go away." She pushed the toe of her boot along the dirt on the stone floor, staring at it intently. She hated that look. After being faced with it all day from everyone, it was the last thing she wanted to see when she was taking her clothes off.

"Curly's problem is that he has no imagination. He's a man with a hammer, and all he sees are nails."

Her eyebrows came together in the trace of a thoughtful frown. "You mentioned that before."

"He's a soldier- a good one. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have leading this army, but don't tell him I said that." She smiled at that, and Varric continued. "But he thinks like a soldier. Everything can be solved by hitting it with a stick. The bigger the problem, the bigger the stick you need. And if he comes to a rare problem that can't possibly be solved with a stick, no matter the size, well, that's what Josephine is here for."

"He's never tried hitting me with a stick." Her lips moved into a humorless smile. "It might help. At least then he wouldn't be thinking of me as some kind of mythical being."

Her companion chuckled. "The point is, you're something he _can't_ hit with a stick, so he doesn't really know what to do with you." She heard him shift, the creak of leather and rustle of clothes. "No imagination."

She glanced over to see him sitting there and looking at her, one palm flat on his thigh, the other down at his side. As she looked at him, she realized- "No Bianca?" Her eyebrows rose again in disbelief. She'd only ever seen him without his beloved weapon one time before, and that included nights huddled together with other compatriots on the road.

He offered half of a shrug, face unreadable. There was no explanation forthcoming, and eventually she just looked away again, her eyes moving over the bottles up on the shelf.

"No one dusts down here," she observed, squinting at the old glass, obscured by a layer of what seemed to be the same grime that ground under her feet when she moved.

"If there were a danger of anyone coming down here, would you be here?"

He had a good point. "You're here."

"Only because I saw you sneaking away. For an elf, you're not exactly stealthy." She recognized the dry tone he used to tease his friends.

"_You're_ the spy," she returned. She was glad things hadn't become awkward between them. It was like the night in her chambers had never even happened. "You followed me down here?"

She heard him shift again, and looked over to see the tail end of his shrug. "You had that look on your face." He was was staring across the small room, but when she looked at him, his eyes came over to meet hers. There was an intensity there that made a faint stain of color heat her cheeks, though why she wasn't entirely sure.

"And you can forget that I'm... me?"

"I told you, Daisy, I'm a writer. I won't hit you with a stick, but I can spin whatever truths I need to." That was the look she wanted to see from Cullen; knowing heat, not a trace of reverence or deference.

She had to look away, the heat spreading down her cheeks to her neck. _I should probably go. _She made no move to leave, though, instead staring at the rough gray floor. _It's just a look_, she told herself. _Nothing is actually happening._

Time stretched out, neither moving or saying anything. The silence was comfortable, though there was an underlying hint of tension that seemed to grow as the seconds ticked by. "I should get back," she said at last. "Something is bound to come up."

A hand closed over her upper arm, an entirely masculine voice said, "Stay."

There were so many reasons not to. She had... whatever she had with Cullen, she was fairly certain that Bianca was actually a person somewhere that he felt some sort of attachment to... But, as she looked over at him again, the look in his eyes was exactly what she needed to see. "Yeah." She turned around and stepped over to him, between where his legs were hanging over the sides of the barrel.

Lips met and caught, her palms rested gently on either side of his open coat. The kiss lingered on and on, and eventually she moved back, opening her eyes to look at him. "I thought this wasn't going to happen again." She made her tone playful, but the underlying question was sincere.

They'd never specifically talked about it, but the _not_ talking about it had seemed to mean something. And then, of course, there was the story he'd quickly written about the merchant prince and the elf from the Dales and how they were never seen or heard from again. Not exactly subtle.

"I don't know what you mean!" Mock-indignation, eyes wide with innocence. "I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've met in your wine cellar."

It was impossible for her not to smile. "That's true enough."

"No hard feelings if you want to leave, Daisy." His hand slipped around her waist, settling in the small of her back. "All I'm offering you is a little anonymity for a while."

Her eyebrows rose again and the smile grew. "A while?"

An answering smirk spread across his face. "Oh, at least six or seven minutes."

She considered it. It wasn't as though she and Cullen had actually made any sort of commitment to each other... "Now, how can I refuse an offer like that?" Quashing any lingering feelings of guilt, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.


	3. Chapter 3

"What are we drinking?" the dark-haired Tevinter mage asked as he settled down on the seat beside her. She was tucked away in the back corner on a rough bench borrowed from somewhere, not too far away from where Bull usually sat. She knew that Bull would keep anyone from bothering her.

Anyone except Dorian, it seemed. She cast a look over to him, and he tsk'ed sympathetically. "Ah, the, _I just broke up with my exceedingly attractive ex-templar boyfriend and now I'm wondering if it was a terrible mistake_. I hear that's a good year."

The look grew rather sharp. "He wasn't my boyfriend, not really, and it was mutual. We were looking for different things."

"Yes, I'm sure you were. If by, 'looking for different things,' you mean you were looking for something with a truly _impressive_ amount of chest hair, and every time he looked at you he couldn't decide whether to bow or stick his tongue in your ear."

She choked on her mouthful of what she'd been assured was the finest Antivan brandy, coughing and spluttering while her friend pounded her on the back. When she could breathe again, the glare resumed, but he merely smiled and pried the bottle out of her hand. He took an experimental sniff at the open mouth of the bottle, then a small drink. "Ah. This is quite nice."

"It should be." She cleared her throat, her voice was still a little raspy. "Josephine gave it to me."

"Impeccable taste, that one. Well, in some cases, anyway, her taste in men is..." He offered an elegant shrug, taking another drink before placing the bottle on the overturned crate she was using as a table.

"Really? I thought you went for the rugged type." She gave a pointed look behind him to where Bull seemed to be making sure that she wasn't poisoned or choking to death or something. When she caught his eye, he nodded and gave her a small smile, turning his attention away from them.

"Not usually, he's a bit of an exception, really." Dorian shifted in his chair, looking intently at the bottle in front of them.

She smiled. "What do you mean about the..."

"Impressive amount of chest hair? You _do_ remember my paramour's chosen profession, do you not?"

She glanced over at Bull again before giving Dorian an appraising look. "Yes. Spy, you mean?"

"Indeed. He's trained to notice things that most people don't. For instance, of late when you encounter a certain dwarf of our mutual acquaintance, you flush just slightly, and your breathing gets a bit more rapid." He met her eyes, seeming to look right through her. "I, naturally, suggested that the two of you may just have gotten into a heated argument, though from the way our _dear_ commander is tossing things about his office..."

She looked away, running a finger down the smooth side of the bottle. Her non-answer was as good as an answer, and her companion chuckled. "Ah, so things did become... heated."

"In a manner of speaking." She glanced up at him, then back down from the amused curiosity in his eyes. "Twice." If he wasn't such a good friend, she wouldn't have admitted it, but she had a hard time keeping things from Dorian. He wouldn't gossip, either, not when he knew it was so serious to her.

"Really." The single word was drawn out, a slight drop in pitch at the end. "And?"

"And what?" She shook her head before taking another drink. She was beginning to feel a little light and warm. She'd gone through the top third of the bottle quite quickly, and it seemed to be hitting all at once.

"And what!?" He sniffed indignantly. "Details, my dear. If he did well enough to warrant not only a repeat performance but the end of your not-relationship with the commander of our troops, I _need_ to hear about it."

She shook her head again, the movement somewhat exaggerated from the amount she'd had to drink. "I didn't end whatever Cullen and I had for him. He's got someone somewhere, I'm almost sure of it."

"So then... What?"

"He looked at me. Really looked at me like I was..." she trailed off, sighing, tapping her fingernail against the glass. "The way Bull looks at you."

"Mmm." It was almost a delighted purr, the noise that came up from the depths of his chest. "Yes, I can see how that might be persuasive. Still, though, I wouldn't recommend you bandy about your fully single state. I wouldn't be surprised if there were fifty offers for your hand in marriage. Within the hour." He paused, seeming to think. "Then again, I'm sure it won't take too long before the rumors get out. He was making _such_ a racket in there."

She groaned, resting her arms on the crate, burying her head in her sleeve.

"There, there, my dear. I'm quite sure Josephine will turn them down tactfully." He paused, rubbing one hand soothingly over her back. " Mutual, you say?"

She nodded, her forehead pressing into her elbow with the movement. And when she spoke, her voice was considerably muffled. "Yes. He said something about being worried that something something interfering with his duty." This was comfortable. Maybe she could just leave her eyes closed and stay here for a while. Someone could throw a blanket over her, she could get an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep. Until they found her again.

"You, my dear, are quite poor at holding your liquor. Sera suffers the same way, is it an elven trait?"

She mumbled something that got lost between her lips and his ear, and he chuckled. "I'm carrying you up to my room, you can sleep it off there. Speaking of rumors, this should keep the proposals at bay for at least a little while."

She was barely aware of being lifted into his arms. "If you weren't an elf, I'd probably have to get Bull to take you out of here. That _really_ would set tongues wagging, wouldn't it?"

She smiled, a barely-conscious facsimile of an appreciative grin at his dry humor. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and the gentle swaying motion as he moved made her a bit queasy.

"Oh no, you are _not_ going to vomit all over my new coat." There was a stern note in his voice as it floated down from somewhere above her. "Do you need me to set you down for a moment?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed. Just as long as she stopped moving soon, her stomach would be fine.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before she was set down on something soft. It smelled nice, like Dorian. Dorian always smelled so nice. She was dimly aware of him laughing, and then nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

When Varric wasn't in his usual place in the Great Hall, she wasn't entirely surprised to climb the stairs into her room and see him sitting there on her bed, adjusting his sleeves. He was watching the stairs like he'd been waiting for her, and they simply stared at each other for a handful of moments, her looking over the white stair-railing, him sitting on the end of her bed.

"So that was Bianca," she said eventually, breaking the silence. "Namesake of your crossbow, I assume?" The crossbow that was missing again, she couldn't help but notice.

"Yes. To both."

She crested the stairs and moved around to stand just beside them, leaning back on the railing, her hands trapped between her ass and the wooden rail. "I thought she'd be taller."

"Taller?" he echoed. "Why taller?"

"You seem to have a thing for taller women. I'm taller than you are, Hawke was even taller than me..." She regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, but he didn't seem bothered by them. In fact, there was a grin on his face as he shook his head.

"It's true. It's the legs, Daisy."

"The legs?" Her eyebrows raised, a smile moving across her lips. She looked down at her own legs, encased in brown pants and tall brown boots. "My legs? They do go all the way to the floor."

"It's more about how they wrap around things. Horses. Trees. Dwarves."

They looked at each other in silence for another few moments, shadows falling across the floor between them. "Are you alright?" she asked at last, taking in the pinch between his eyes that even the night couldn't hide.

"This isn't the first time I've had to clean up her mess." There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, but fondness as well. "She's very strong-willed."

Her lips quirked up into a smirk. "Something tells me that you wouldn't be with her if she wasn't."

He made a noise of agreement. "I do like a woman who knows what she wants. Maybe it's because I'm so damn indecisive..." He sighed, shoulders seeming to slump under his self-recrimination.

"I don't see that. You've made plenty of decisions since I've known you. This isn't the first time you've tracked me down, that had to take some decisiveness." She pushed away from the rail, walking across the room until she reached the diamond-paned glass doors that led out to the balcony. They were closed now in deference to the night's chill, but she did have to admire the view as she stared through them. Now that she wasn't falling asleep, she could appreciate the idea of having her rooms all the way up here.

"You're not exactly hard to find." She heard another heavy sigh, followed by the thump as he slid from the bed onto his feet. His footsteps marked his passage across the cold floor to stop just beside her, and he looked out at the nighttime vista as well. "It was cute 15 years ago, made me feel like she needed me."

She glanced over at him, he was standing beside her with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward. "And now?"

"Now it feels like she's using me." A smirk twisted his face. "And that I'm getting too old for this shit."

"I don't believe that for a second. What would you do without all of this intrigue?" She stared at the angle she had of his profile, the crooked line of his nose where it had been broken at least once. "You had a chance to leave. What was it you told me, that you couldn't turn your back on what was going on?"

"Something like that." There was approval in his voice, like he was glad she'd remembered. "But what's going on here doesn't really have anything to do with Bianca." He paused for a moment, then looked over to meet her eyes. "At least it shouldn't. Andraste's tits, I'm s-"

"Varric, if you apologize again, I'm throwing you off the balcony." She gave him a hard look, her words clear and earnest.

"Me?" His face at once took on an injured look. "You'd really throw me off that balcony? That's a long way down, Daisy."

"You remember that." She shook her head, hands spreading in a wide gesture of acceptance. "I don't care about what she did. In the grand scheme of things, it's just a very, very small tangle in this big knot we're facing."

"Knots?" He gave an amused grunt, visibly wincing. "Leave the metaphors to someone who's not going to murder them."

She reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle shove, causing herself to sway more than moving him at all. "Whatever. I'm more concerned about what this means for you. Even if she is using you, it doesn't mean she doesn't need you." She paused meaningfully. "Love you."

Shaking his head, he turned from the glass door to fully face her. He looked up into her face, eyes shadowed in the dark. "I didn't expect that from you."

"Why not? Because we..." A draft from the other side of the glass sent a shiver up her spine, and she turned, moving away from the window. Sitting on the bed seemed too suggestive, somehow, so instead she moved over and settled herself on the room's lone couch. It was farther from the fire, but it was also far enough away from the windows to be warm. "Did we get married without my happening to notice? I suppose it's possible, there are days when I barely even see what Josephine is pushing at me to sign. I can't begin to tell you how good I've become at pretending to know what people are talking about."

That drew a chuckle from him, and he walked across the room to settle himself beside her again, this time leaning back to half-sit on the arm of the couch, arms folded in front of him. "That would be a plot twist. I think you're safe, though."

"We're in the middle of a war, I'm some sort of religious figure mixed with a high commander, and the only two people who actually call me by my name-" She stopped and thought a moment, then shook her head. "The only two people who don't use a title when they speak to me don't even use my name. Dorian uses a term of endearment, and you call me Daisy. I'll take what I can get." She turned on the couch to lean back against the other arm, one foot curled under her and the other flat on the seat, regarding him. "I always assumed you had someone else, and it didn't seem to bother you. When you mentioned Bianca was married, I guess it made sense."

His lips twisted into a rueful smile. "Yeah. Whatsisname." His gray eyes were trained on his boots.

Her heart went out to him. He sure hadn't had an easy time lately, and now he had to deal with this... "Are you really alright? You know, Bianca's not-"

He looked over at her, and the look in his eyes made her words die in her throat, the heat she saw there making her belly dip in anticipation. "I don't want to talk about Bianca anymore. I'd rather talk about your legs."

She considered him for a moment, the determined look on his face before she grinned, shifting until she was reclined on the soft piece of furniture, only her head and shoulders propped up on the arm. "And how they wrap around things?"

"Horses." He got onto the couch, positioning himself between her outstretched legs. "Trees." He eased himself forward until he was leaning over her, braced on his hands on either side of her ribs. "Dwarves." He shifted until he was on top of her, lips against hers. In contrast to the playful kisses they'd shared in the past, this was intense, almost frantic, like he was trying to lose himself in her. There was almost a desperation in the way his tongue sought her mouth, his hands moved almost automatically to the fastenings of her shirt. She didn't protest- he'd been what she needed, and now she had the chance to do the same for him.

She wrapped her legs about his hips, and the noise of approval he made was a delicious vibration against the side of her neck where his mouth had traveled.

It wasn't long before he was inside her, clothes pushed out of the way but not completely removed. And after he reached his release, he collapsed on top of her, resting his head between her breasts. He was a bit heavy but she didn't mind, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his neck as they caught their breath.

Eventually, she spoke. "It's a bit chilly." The cool night air was hitting the side of her bare hip that wasn't covered by her lover, and very soon it was probably going to start making her shiver. "Can I interest you in moving to the bed?"

He lifted his head and looked down at her for a moment. She could see the indecision moving through his eyes. "Alright." He pushed himself up off of her, backing away and then getting to his feet. His boots were even still on, she noticed as she sat up. "Just to warn you, Daisy, I snore."

"You've slept here before." She rose and went over to the large bed, stripping completely before slipping in underneath the blankets. The bedding was cool, but it would warm up quickly enough, especially with the two of them there.

He followed suit, cuddling close to her side as she lay on her back. "Not really. You dropped off just as soon as we were done, I sneaked back out before someone came up here to see us together and make hasty assumptions."

"Hasty?" She thought about it, covering a yawn with her hand. "Maybe. Probably not incorrect, though. You're not worried about someone coming in here tonight?"

His hand brushed over her stomach as he settled on his side, head almost on her shoulder. "You're no longer sleeping with the sword-wielding commander of our troops. Anything else, I'll risk it."


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian caught her arm as she ascended the stairs to the keep. Trudged might have been a better word, her legs felt a little bit like lead. She was exhausted. But the sight of everyone's triumphant faces had energized her at least enough that Dorian didn't need to carry her upward. "Josephine has a party waiting for you in there," he cautioned, tucking her hand into his elbow and patting it absently.

She looked up at the bright lights of the hall that shone out into the night, a fascinated, terrified look on her face. "I suppose it's good to celebrate that everything is over."

"I, of course, suggested that you might be better off just heading up to bed with a dwarf to tuck you in, but I was out-voted."

She looked up at him sharply, taking in the amused twist of his mouth under his moustache. "Dorian..."

"Everyone already knows, my dear." He looked down at the sharp breath she drew to scold him, something very like a smirk across his face. "Well, _I_ didn't tell them."

She halted, one foot on the step above her, forcing him to a stop as well. "Dorian..."

"Cole asked Varric about this business with putting mouths and your tongues together, and your name may have come up..." There was a positively devilish look on his face, as though he was quite enjoying her discomfort. "He suggested that you two should do it more often, because you both wanted to. And the fitting together of body parts..." He was enjoying this, the bastard! "Mentioned that it's something you both think about quite often."

She groaned, leaning forward to bury her head in his shoulder, closing her eyes like that would shut out the reality of his words. She had no doubt that everything he was saying was true. Since he'd become more human, Cole had more curiosity about what living as a human was like, and apparently that extended to...

"Now really, I don't know how you expected to keep it a secret anyway." There was a slight scolding tone in his voice, rising over the immense amusement. "We're all living together in this drafty old castle, and gossip spreads faster than sickness."

"Everyone?" she asked, her voice muffled by his coat.

"Everyone," he affirmed, drawing out the word with some relish.

The temptation to turn around and go back down the stairs was strong, but his hand tightened over hers, holding it hostage against his arm. "Now, now, my dear. Varric acquitted himself quite well on your behalf. Really, there's less talk about the two of you than there was about you and the _dear_ commander of our army. Although, Sera suggested that Varric must be quite talented with his tongue indeed..." He laughed as she lifted her head and glared up at him. "Much better. We should go up and see what Josephine has managed to pull together for you, her taste is absolutely impeccable."

She sighed, and the two continued their trek up the steps into the keep's front hall. Both walls were lined with tables, everyone looked happy, relaxed... It was enough to make Ellana smile, and exhaustion was quickly forgotten as she looked out over the crowd that included those she'd come to call friends.

Dorian pressed a goblet of something in her hand and slipped away, moving quickly to his paramour's side. It was sweet to see them together, the raucous qunari and the arrogant Tevinter.

She moved among the gathered crowd, stopping to have a few words with those she was closest to. Thankfully, Cole didn't mention anything about tongues or interlocking body parts. Everyone indicated they would stay on, too, which cheered her even more than the party on its own.

After a word or two to everyone, though, the rush of energy was wearing off, and it was time to get up to her room for a chance to sit down and enjoy the quiet. Peace. Was that even possible?

It was nearing dawn, she realized as she walked through the quiet halls to her room. The high windows displayed a sky already beginning to lighten as the sun's rays stretched across it.

She was entirely unsurprised to see Varric sitting on the edge of her bed, a smile spread across his face. "How do you do that?" she asked, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs and looking at him. "I just saw you downstairs."

He slid from the bed and moved towards her, offering her one gloved hand. "You mage-types just don't understand the subtle art of sneaking around."

She took his hand, feeling the press of his fingers around hers. Taking slow steps backwards, he drew her gently towards the open balcony door, out to face the sun just cresting over the horizon. They stopped and he turned to watch it with her, hand still clasped in her own.

The few scattered clouds were tinged with just the faintest hint of pink that faded to pure white as the golden orb rose higher and higher, spreading light across the land. Peace was beautiful.

"So, what now?" she asked, voice hushed in the pale light of early morning. "It feels like we've been working towards this forever, but now that we're here... I don't know what to do with it all."

"Right now?" She looked over to see him looking up at her, studying her face. "Sleep. There's no crisis that won't wait until you've had a good few uninterrupted hours of sleep."

"Uninterrupted sleep?" Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. "I wasn't aware such a thing existed anymore."

"It's going to, or someone's getting an arrow to the knee." Something about the way he said it suggested that it was, in fact, a threat he'd actually made very seriously to her council of advisors.

The corners of her lips lifted in a brief smile, then dropped again, the smile gone as quickly as it had appeared. "What about you?"

"Sleep. Killing Corypheus the second time around was a lot more tiring than it was the first time." He chuckled a little at the pointed look she gave him. "I'm staying here, Daisy. After all, I have a book to write, and it's easier when the subject of your book is right in front of you."

"What about..." She trailed off, trying to work out how to word the question. "What about Bianca?"

"The crossbow is under your bed. I told you, arrow to the knee." At her continued look, his eyes moved away, back over the landscape below. "The smith... She's in Orlais. I don't anticipate seeing her again for a long time. She has her business, and I have mine."

"Your business? What business is that, exactly?"

"Cassandra's much less uptight when she's reading my smut. With her going on to be the next Divine, I figure she's going to need something new to read just to get through the day. Thought I'd start a serial about a merchant prince and an elf maiden." He looked up at her and winked, then turned and headed back into the room, still holding her hand.

**AN: Okay, this is really it this time. :D I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write!**


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